


Visiting

by kareofbears



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Pete isn't a fan of Steve, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kareofbears/pseuds/kareofbears
Summary: Another beat passes as they look at each other in silence. Steve clears his throat.“So, are you an intern here?” He asks kindly. He highly doubts that Tony takes interns, but he needs to make small talk. The silence was nearly suffocating.Peter shrugs. “Something like that.”Steve furrows his eyebrows, wanting to ask what he means by that, but decides to go with the more important question instead.“Sorry to bother you kid,” Peter’s analytical eyes turn into a harsh glare. “But uh, why is the door locked?”-(Or, Steve visits the compound after the events of Civil War, and is met with an unexpected foe.)





	Visiting

He didn’t expect to get into the compound this easily.

Steve feels his tires roll on smooth concrete, tapping the steering wheel as he stops in front of the massive entrance. He was expecting a lot of resistance. Tony had never been one to fall short when it came to safety, and Steve understands that he isn’t considered safe anymore. However, it’s almost eerily silent as he steps out of the car and heads towards the front door, with a gentle breeze rustling the trees.

He tries to pull the door open, only to see that it’s locked. Steve raises an eyebrow, almost scoffing. A locked door? Really? He and Tony know that that’s not going to stop anyone.

“You know, it’s rude to try and open doors in places where you don’t belong, Captain.”

He knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Steve’s heart jolts in his chest as he turns around. After years of combat, it’s rare for someone to sneak up on him. When he faces the boy in front of him, confusion intertwines with shock.

A young man, no older than seventeen, sits on the hood of Steve’s car, completely relaxed. Steve had to hide his surprise; he never heard any footsteps or movement before the boy spoke. If he wasn’t so startled, he would’ve been amazed.

He has his hands in the pocket of his hoodie with a diagram of an atom right in the centre. The expression on his face is completely neutral, making Steve unable to read his thoughts whatsoever. His curly brown hair, and his casual stance give him an air of innocence, yet his eyes are a completely different story.

Brown irises focus on Steve with such intensity that he makes a conscious effort not to squirm. They’re analyzing Steve, looking for information that gives him away. While his youth is prevalent in his appearance, his eyes hold age in them. They’re intelligent eyes, eyes that have seen too much, eyes that are too similar to the person he planned on paying a visit to.

He decides to take the friendly approach.

“Son,” he greets, giving a small smile. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Steve,” he holds his hand out. The boy looks at Steve’s hand, and makes no movement to shake it.

“I know.” His reply is curt. It’s obvious that making conversation would be like pulling teeth.

“And you are?” Steve prods.

A beat passes before he answers. “Peter,” he replies monotonously. 

Another beat passes as they look at each other in silence. Steve clears his throat.

“So, are you an intern here?” He asks kindly. He highly doubts that Tony takes interns, but he needs to make small talk. The silence was nearly suffocating.

Peter shrugs. “Something like that.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows, wanting to ask what he means by that, but decides to go with the more important question instead.

“Sorry to bother you kid,” Peter’s analytical eyes turn into a harsh glare. “But uh, why is the door locked?” 

Peter continues to glare at him. “I told FRIDAY to.” 

Steve blinked in surprise. This kid has the authority to use FRIDAY? Even when the Avengers were strong, no one on the team had that sort of access.

The wind's starting to pick up, the gentle breeze turning harsh, whipping the trees into a frenzy. The wind has no effect on Peter as he gets off the hood and slowly makes his way towards Steve.

Steve opens his mouth, about to ask Peter who he is, when suddenly a thick branch snaps off a tree, and is about to hit directly behind Peter’s head. 

Steve is about to push him out of the way when Peter smoothly turns around, swerves his body sideways, and catches the branch with one hand with an almost bored expression.

Okay.

Who was this kid?

“Hey-” Steve began, but is cut off again when Peter’s phone rings, playing some rock song. AC/DC, maybe? 

Eyes still trained on Steve, he answers his phone. 

“What's up, Mr. Stark?” He asks cheerfully, his tone a complete 180 from how he spoke to Steve, whose eyes widen. His casual vocabulary with Tony only adds to the growing list of how abnormal this kid is.

Peter waits a few seconds, listening. Then, he rolls his eyes fondly, no longer focusing on the confused man in front of him.

“Main entrance,” Peter answers, eyes darting back to Steve. “I'm surprised you didn't come sooner.”

The doors open behind Steve, revealing a sharply dressed Tony Stark, holding a phone to his ear. 

“Well, kid, you know how much I love giving you learning experiences.” He grins, completely ignoring Steve as he walks past him. He saunters to Peter, an easy grin on his features as he claps his hand over his shoulders. 

It’s official. 

Steve has no idea what’s going on. 

His eyes flicker between the duo, racking his brain into coming up with a plausible theory of their relationship. A secret cousin he didn’t know about? Some kid who works for him? His son? Steve’s head's reeling from the possibilities.

Peter smile widens to match Tony’s, before morphing his features back into a neutral expression when he faces Steve again.

“I wouldn’t say that I loved this particular experience.”

Silence hangs over the three of them for a second, before Tony finally turns to Steve. He gives a faux gasp, hand shooting to go over his heart dramatically. 

“Rogers! What a surprise!” he gasps, mouth agape. “Good thing I made the compound wheelchair accessible, I always want to be able to accommodate the elderly.” He pulls his hand off of a glaring Peter, and takes a step forward to give Steve his full attention, almost blocking Peter from Steve’s view entirely. Despite his playful banter, Tony’s eyes are hardened. The friendly warmth that once resided there is long gone, only leaving behind an icy stare. Mouth quirked up and head tilted ever so slightly to the left, his over the top polite smile leaves Steve feeling uncomfortable. 

His eyes dart to Tony’s hands. Left hand gripping his right wrist, index finger over his watch. 

Steve frowns ever so slightly. It stings, just a little bit, that Tony is this wary of Steve now. He knows with just two taps from that watch, Steve can be on the ground with a repulsor-sized hole in his chest. 

Keeping that in mind, he smooths his brows of the frown, leaving what he hopes to be a kind smile in its wake. An angry Tony is an uncooperative Tony.

“Hey Tony,” from the corner of his eye, he sees Peter narrow his eyes at Steve’s casual use of his name. “We should talk.”

He hears Peter mutter behind Tony, sounding suspiciously similar to, “Like hell you’ll talk.”

“Sorry, what was that, Peter?” He asks politely, feeling a little irked at the boy. He didn’t come all this way to be judged by a kid. 

“Eyes on me, Rogers.” Tony snaps, taking another step towards Steve, who raises an eyebrow in surprise. His false smile is replaced by a clenched jaw. Tony was now completely blocking his view from Peter. Interesting.

“We should talk,” he repeats.

“Oh, should we?” Tony snorts. “I didn’t realize we were just opening our mouths, emitting silence. I’ll try harder next time.” 

Steve fights to repress a sigh. “We can’t keep ignoring each other, Tony. The world needs us.”

“The world’s been pretty good without you, actually.”

“Come on, we all miss you-”

“‘We?' Who’s ‘we?' Oh!” Tony exclaims, sarcasm dripping in every syllable. “You mean the rest of the Avengers? I love it when they say that they miss me, but decide to bail the moment things get a little tough. I really love that.”

“I just want to apologize,” Steve blurts out. “Just...just let me apologize.”

That causes Tony to pause, looking at Steve’s face, his expression carefully blank. 

After a moment of silence, Tony releases his hand from his wrist watch.

“Alright, Rogers.” Tony mutters, eyes never leaving Steve’s. He takes three paces towards Steve, who's now less than a meter away from him. 

Even with the wind blowing, he can hear Tony’s quiet words, layered with venom. “I’ll let you talk. But know this; if this is some kind of trick, prank, or a sick game, I will not hesitate to fuck you up. Capiche?” 

Steve stands tall, but his swallow is a dead giveaway to his thoughts. 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. I’m glad we’re clear on that.” He makes his way to the glass door, and pulls it open easily. “Let’s talk inside.”

Tony holds it open, letting them in. He falls into step with Peter as the door slowly closes behind them. He shouldn’t be surprised that Tony doesn’t trust Steve to have the possibility of stabbing him in the back.

Walking through the compound again was...odd. All the furniture was the same, but it’s different now. Instead of blueprints and liquor scattered on the tables and shelves, there’s math textbooks and Lego bricks. He spies shoes that are too small and worn to be Tony’s by the couch. A camera sits by the TV, looking at least twenty years old. As they turn the corner, Steve steps over a blue crewneck that reads ‘Midtown School of Science and Technology’ surrounding a symbol of an atom. 

Tony gestures to the couch. “Have a seat, Cap. I’m sure it’s absolutely exhausting being a war criminal.” Steve grimaces at the comment, and accepts the offer, sinking into the faux leather. Tony relaxes into the loveseat in front of him, leaning back into the cushions. Peter stands to the right of Tony, nervously fidgeting. He seemed to have no intention of leaving his side. 

“Kid, why don’t you make the adults some coffee?” Tony suggests, eyebrow raised.

“Uh, but Mr. Stark,” Peter fumbles, “You already had coffee today, didn’t you?”

“That was two hours ago, and I get tired if I don’t have some hourly.”

After a moment of hesitation, Peter takes one last glance at Tony and Steve, before making his way to the kitchen.

“Good kid,” Steve observes.

“He’s alright. Annoying as hell, but he isn’t bad with numbers.”

“Is he your intern or something?”

“Sure,” Tony shrugs.

When Tony gives no further explanation, Steve decides to talk about what he came here for.

“Tony, we - uh, the Rogues - need to come back to New York. I’m so-”

“Nope, nope, nope. Never in a million years. We had a deal, Rogers, we said you’d get the hell off my turf-”

“Things change, and you know how New York attracts danger-”

“And I said I’d handle it-”

“And we’re saying you can’t.” Steve interrupts, voice raising in volume and level of desperation. He winces, imagining how his words must sound. 

Tony’s face crumbles for a fraction of a second, before hardening again. 

“Who said that?” He said quietly. “Sam? You? Natasha?”

Steve’s stomach churns. He knows that Nat and Tony go far back, and Nat’s sudden alliance with Steve must be a slap to the face. 

“That’s not the poi-”

Tony interrupts him with a loud, crazed laugh that sounds so unnatural in his usually smooth voice. This is not going well.

“Really now?” Tony asks, loud voice bouncing off the walls. “First, she leaves, and now she’s talking smack? It’s like I’m dealing with tabloid reporter with a part-time job as a spy.”

“Tony-” tries Steve, growing more desperate. It seems no words can soothe the declining situation.

A crash and the sound of glass makes its way into their argument, and Tony stands, with a confused expression on his face. 

“Kid?” Tony yells. “You okay?” 

He shoots a look towards Steve, before walking quickly towards the noise. Steve follows him from a meter away, giving the man some space. 

They both stop as they see the smashed remnants of a Captain America mug on the floor by the wall, and Peter breathing quickly as blood runs down his hand, dripping onto the wooden floor. 

Steve’s eyes widen the same time Tony releases a deep sigh. 

“Kid, if you didn’t wanna make coffee that badly, you should’ve said something.”

Peter gives a snort. “Oh please, like you’d let me go without making me do stuff.”

“Hey!” Tony gasps dramatically, eyes comically wide. “You have the audacity to say that when you march into my property, and eat all of my food-” 

Peter laughs loudly before his mouth morphs into a wide grin. “I’m joking, I'm joking! Now, can you please get me the first aid kit before I bleed out in your kitchen?” 

Tony rolls his eyes as he turns to leave the room. “Yeah, right, as if a little cut like that could stop you from being annoyingly loud all the time.”

“That's rude!”

“You're the one that's rude!” Tony shouts from afar, voice fading until Steve can no longer hear his light footsteps.

Their playful banter disappears with Tony, leaving behind an annoyed-looking seventeen year old.

Without as much as a glance at Steve, he turns to the sink and washes off his blood, unbothered.

“You okay, kid?” 

“Don't call me that.” he snaps, voice low. 

All friendliness he expressed before is now only a mere memory. The only thing left are the ashes of annoyance and irritation. 

“Sorry.” Steve mutters. Awkwardness stretches between them. He clears his throat, about to say something before Peter cuts him off.

“You didn’t even apologize.”

“...what?” 

“To Mr. Stark. You said you’d apologize, but the only thing you did was piss him off even more.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. How did the he even hear their conversation? The kitchen was way too far from the couch to hear them. 

“Look, I know how Tony thinks-”

“Stop calling him that.” Peter says, voice cracking with emotion. After a beat of silence, he adds continues, voice low. “He hates that.”

He’s speechless. He does? Since when? 

“Maybe,” Peter mumbles, looking down at the ground. “Maybe you should leave, Captain.”

After years of battle, observing the enemy, and strategizing for optimal success, he understands when he’s lost. He knows when to retreat. 

“Alright,” Steve mutters, equally as quiet as Peter. “Tell To- uh, tell him I say I’ll see him next time.”

Peter says nothing, only watching Steve as he leaves the kitchen.

-

Peter doesn't move until he hears Steve’s car drive away, eternally thankful for his super hearing.

Which is why he doesn’t jump when Tony steps into the room, empty handed.

“You didn’t even bother getting the first-aid kit, did you?” 

Tony snorts in response, walking towards the coffee machine, taking out a mug from the cabinet.

“Yeah, right. That little cut is all healed up by now. Besides, there’s no way you just let it break. As if you’d drop something like a mug by accident.” Tony says, pouring dark liquid into a red mug with a spider logo on it. Peter smiles slightly, happy that Tony uses the cheap gift he gave him. They both laughed pretty hard about it at the time. It warms his heart to know that Iron Man would use a Spider-Man mug. 

“Don’t worry, I chose the ugliest one.” Peter retorts, grabbing the broom from behind the fridge. 

“That’s rude, Parker.” Tony answers, after taking a long drink. 

Silence stretches between them, only interrupted by Peter sweeping up glass. It was a strangely soothing sound. 

Tony clears his throat, looking slightly awkward. “Uh, thanks, I guess.” He shifts the weight between his feet, uncomfortable with the emotion of a single thanks. 

Peter smiles slightly, sweeping the shards into the dust pan. He walks towards the trash can, and throws the remnants of the broken mug into the trash. He turns around, happy to see that the mess was gone. 

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that was pretty good! I mean, you made it to the end, so it's probably not that terrible? Leave a comment if you liked it! Or if you hated it. Any feedback is good feedback. Thank you! :D


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